Underworld: The Awakening
by lupinskitten
Summary: Picks up where Rise of the Lycans leaves off and ends after Selene's awakening as a vampire. I wanted to fill in some of the missing pieces. Includes: Viktor, Amelia, Tanis, Kraven, and Selene. References Lucian and Sonja. Finished.
1. Chapter 1: Viktor

The Awakening

"_I should have killed you the day you were born_!"

The pain, searing and hot, spiraled through his veins along with the cold iron blade that penetrated his skull.

"_Yes, you should have_," Lucian snarled, and tore the weapon out, "_but you didn't_."

He thrust Viktor down the ventilation shaft, chains tumbling around him as he hit the water with a splash. Crimson clouds surrounded him as he drifted into inky darkness, fragments of sunlight shimmering on the surface. He was stunned, incomprehensible, enraged. He would not the Lycan win, nor would he admit defeat. He knew this fortress intimately, every inch of it. The water came in from the sea, through a set of cast iron bars and narrow tunnels that eventually led to the cliffs.

Sluggish movement propelled him forward, tearing the iron bars free and passing through the yawning opening. His body was healing slowly, for he had not enough blood in his veins. Movement and shadows appeared above him, along with the dip of oars in the water. It was Tanis, intending to row through the arch to the waiting ship with the caskets of the Elders. He did not believe his lord had survived, his beady eyes intent only on his task, an illusion that led to surprise when something caught one of the oars. The resistance was so strong that he looked over the side and saw a horrific, eerie reflection swirling beneath his own: Viktor, his piercing blue gaze white from loss of blood. One sinewy hand arose from the depths and the ghastly face followed, the lips drawn into a snarl.

"My lord," Tanis gasped and assisted in pulling him into the craft, which rocked from side to side precariously. In the bottom was a bag of his beloved scrolls, documentation of their last several centuries of unchallenged domination. He was already crafting the words of this defeat in his mind, turning the sentences over on his tongue, and reveling in their sweetness. He was their historian, an invaluable asset but one Viktor did not trust to always tell the truth. Tanis was a necessary evil and in this instance, needed.

"Row," Viktor commanded.

Tanis, sweating under his companion's unwavering gaze, gripped the wooden oars and pulled them hard. The sun had not yet risen high enough to penetrate this side of the castle and their progress around the cliffs to the waiting ship remained shadowed as well as unseen.

There was a triumphant roar high above as Lucian claimed their domain. Viktor loathed the very sound of it, despised that he had not been able to defeat his adversary, sickened at what the last several days had brought about: the rebellion of the slave race, the Lycans, the discovery of his daughter's betrayal, and her execution to kill the monstrosity growing within her. Children were intended to be a blessing rather than a curse but she had brought him such anguish, such sorrow, such anger. Her mother had died bringing her into this world for nothing, for betrayal, to him and their kind.

His fingers tightened against the plank on which he sat. All of them were dead, save for Tanis and those awaiting them on the ship. The entire council had been wiped out, slaughtered by their slaves. He should have killed Lucian when he was young, but something had compelled him to allow him to live; curiosity, perhaps, or even a spark of compassion as over the years his fascination with the child had permitted him to enter a place of honor among his captors. That honor had brought about Viktor's defeat, for Lucian had betrayed him.

Tired hands closed around the rope ladder hanging over the side of the ship. There were humans as well as vampires on board, those to steer the ship in daylight as well as darkness. The ship was kept in constant readiness in case there was a revolt, and they knew when they saw his expression what had happened. No one spoke. He watched as the iron caskets bearing the other Elders were hoisted into the hold. Chains swung and men groaned under the weight, aware that the cargo was precious.

It was cold and dark below deck, soothing for the pain that still stiffened his form, his injuries knitting but leaving him weak and vulnerable. He would not sleep long, just enough to allow them to cross the waters and make for their northern stronghold. Kraven had been left in command of the north provinces and though he was not a warrior, he would be of assistance in determining what to do next.

A place of rest awaited him, open and dark, promising a reprieve from the violence of his thoughts and the depths of his remorse. Viktor passed into it and the ornate doors closed in on him, knowing Markus and Amelia slept on either side, oblivious to all that had transpired. He would have to awaken them, or at least Amelia. The coven was destroyed and he would need her assistance. But what a bitter admission it would be.


	2. Chapter 2: Amelia

Her first taste of treachery came with a simple drop of blood. It passed over her cold, hard white lips and trailed across her tongue, awakening a faint spark of consciousness beneath half a century of sleep. Flashes of Viktor's memories began to stir her mind, cohesive images that allowed her to see what the werewolves had become, a new breed known as Lycans. Their leader, Lucian, had revolted and brought about a violent, terrible battle in which most of their numbers were slain. Blood slowly flowed into her veins, expanding them and sparking gradual awareness of the world around her. There were other images, fleeting instances of betrayal and death.

Sonja.

Viktor had sentenced his own daughter to perish, and her screams lingered in the distance as Amelia awoke. The ceiling above was of distant stone in a cold room lit by flickering candles. Shadows lurked in their depths and Viktor stood over her, his sharp features gray in the dismal light, eyes piercing as he observed her return from the void, his blood flowing from a wound on his wrist into her mouth.

It had not been a full century. She knew this, her limbs strengthening and dark hair still soft against her shoulders. Her appearance must have been hideous, a dried-out vampire awaiting her turn to reign, but she cared nothing for that, only for the memories that wet her tongue and brought a deep anger to her soul.

"I have need of you," Viktor said, and removed the source of nourishment. He vanished from view and she had not the strength to rise up and watch him. Footsteps drew near and a face appeared, blanched at the sight of her, fear evident as the peasant observed her unfortunate state. Only blood would return her full strength and alter her appearance, only fresh blood. There were rules. They only fed on livestock to prevent suspicion among the locals, but this was not Viktor's stronghold and the circumstances were dire. No matter. Amelia had little regard for the man who would sacrifice his life for hers. His appearance was mundane, his hair long and loose against his shoulders. He did not know what to expect and remained unmoving as the ghastly figure before him sat up, reaching for him with a cold, pale and dead hand.

"Do you know what I am, Mortal?" she asked him.

He licked his lips. "Yes."

"Then you know what is asked of you."

Fear flashed through his eyes, not of her but what she represented, an endless quest for power, for strength, for immortality despite its consequences. "Yes," he whispered.

Amelia caressed the side of his face, then drew him near and sank sharp fangs into his throat. His natural instinct was to fight but he soon relented and grew weak as she became strong, his blood flowing through her while Viktor watched, burning with desire. Out of all of the Elders, he craved human blood the most.

She held the peasant unrelentingly and watched as faint color returned to her fingers, fleshing them out and restoring their perfect shape. She knew the transformation had taken hold of her features as well, that she was once more the radiant woman Markus had saved from death. He had given her eternal life, immortality, and made her one of the Elders. He had been captivated by her beauty and had mercy on her in the hour of her death, as she lay upon a bloodstained battlefield, the fiercest female warrior in the mountains. He had wanted her assistance in capturing William, his feral brother forever bound in werewolf form.

But it was Viktor that she most remembered, standing in the distance, watching as the life was taken from her. Amelia had died and been reborn surrounded by the corpses of her enemies, and ever since he had respected her, admired her, even understood her in a way that few did. His bond with her was stronger than her loyalty to Markus, and as she was aware of his presence, of his desire, of the grief that still dominated his heart, she felt for him. Beneath her anger and indignation, beneath her frustration and her wrath, he had lost a daughter.

When the last of his blood was nearly gone, Amelia pulled back and brushed a tendril of hair out of his ashen face. He would be beautiful in his transformed state, strong and powerful, a much needed ally in their time of need.

"Do not turn him," said Viktor. "Kill him."

"Our Coven needs more members, not fewer," she answered.

The man was on the brink of death; another drop of blood and the life would fade from him. Viktor moved forward, his long robes rippling around him. "We need _warriors_, not peasants," he snarled. "That mistake has been made before!"

Now that her senses were keen once more, Amelia felt the presence of Kraven in the hall. Neither of them trusted him but both found him useful and she knew what he meant. Her hands stroked the man's face and then swiftly snapped his neck, permitting the body to slump to the floor. It was a gesture of intent and ruthlessness but also unimaginable grace. Amelia was different from the other women of their race, more powerful but also far more influential, her beauty transcending mere physical appearance and making her desirable to any man who saw her. Viktor was transfixed by the sight of her, half naked and as beautiful as marble. Removing his cloak, he placed it around her shoulders and at his indication of the nearest open arch, she preceded him into the chamber beyond, darkness flickering outside the narrow windows that overlooked the sea. They were in the north provinces, distant enough that their enemies could not soon descend upon them, but also solitary and inconvenient. The fortress in the south must be reclaimed once their numbers were restored. All she needed to know had been obtained from his blood, not in abundance but enough to warn her of the precariousness of their situation.

Resting her hand on the back of the nearest chair, she said, "Will we awaken Markus?"

"If we do not, he will think we have formed an alliance against him."

"You mean _another _alliance against him." There was no humor in her gaze as she approached, her slender form absolved in shadows.

Viktor observed her steadily, unashamed of his actions, of the knowledge that together they had chosen to condemn Markus's brother, the father of all werewolves, to eternal imprisonment. The bitterness that had followed that exchange, the accusations that Viktor and Amelia had conspired against William's best interest and betrayed Markus's trust, had forced them into a decision that had until now remained unaltered. No more than one Elder at a time would lead the coven, each new century bringing in a new leader: Viktor, then Amelia, then Markus. A hundred years for each, to govern as they chose without fear of retribution. He liked Amelia more than Markus, for her mind was much nearer to his, more ruthless than their Father and equally dangerous. Their adversaries were dealt with in brutal manners when Amelia had power, and her reign was feared only slightly less than his own. Viktor had maintained absolute power until Lucian had taken it from him, had assembled the wolves to fight on his side, and laid waste to his province. Amelia shared Viktor's secret, the knowledge of where William was imprisoned. Markus never asked them, but they could see the yearning in his eyes. It brought them together in spite of their many disagreements.

"I have not forgotten."

Firelight flickered in the background as Amelia tilted her head slightly and scrutinized him. "We were nearly victorious," she said.

He stiffened, his narrow features convulsing with bitterness that she would dare accuse him. So much had happened in the two hundred years since she had taken her rest: the loss of his wife, the birth of his daughter, the discovery of the human-Lycan child; his training and usefulness in creating a new breed of Lycans, followed by betrayal when his love for Sonja had caused them to betray the Coven. Her death haunted him with greater depth than the violent response of her lover. Lucian's retaliation was nothing, his ruthless assault on Viktor no more than simple revenge. The memory of certain death did not trouble him as much as the screams in his head, memories of the ghastly howl Lucian had unleashed as Sonja turned to ash. Viktor had stood in her room, his arms wound tightly around the nearest bedpost, resisting every urge to storm back into that execution chamber and prevent the inevitable.

Regarding him with a blend of understanding and condemnation, Amelia's judgment resounded in his ears. He turned on her but stopped, towering over her but no more dangerous than she was, for she was as ruthless and calculating as he, and considered her at length.

"We had a chance until you started a second war."

The glint of sharp teeth accompanied this further insult. There was irritation behind it. Amelia did not want to undertake the rebuilding of a Coven, to contend with replacing the members of the council slaughtered in the southern province. During her rest, she had anticipated that not much would change and had awakened to a new age in which they faced a grave threat, for now the Lycans had a leader, a powerful, immortal, infuriated source of inspiration. He did not know Viktor still lived, but it was only a matter of time until the Elder's escape was discovered.

"I did what was required to protect our numbers. I could not have foreseen the consequences."

"But you could have _contained_ them. Your affection for the Lycan prevented his immediate death. Now he will hunt us all into the grave."

His expression became unusual, a corner of his narrow lips twisting upward in a semblance of a humorless smile. "Haven't you already been in one?"

Amelia followed as he moved away from her, the folds of her cloak billowing in her wake. She was a raven in human form, her dark hair as impressive as her almond-shaped eyes. Their relationship was tempestuous at best, competitive, constantly at odds and only infrequently in agreement, such as when they had sided with one another against Markus. It had drawn them together, made them compatible for a short time until they had taken their sleep. Now, old rivalries had returned in force, Amelia caring nothing for his anguish or rage. Their situation was precarious, their allies fewer than their adversaries and since Lucian had control over the wild Lycans as well as those capable of spontaneous transformation the Vampires were seriously outnumbered.

"This is not a matter for amusement, Viktor," she said darkly. "It is because of you that the council has been destroyed, that only twelve of us remain. _Twelve_! You had to breed your pets and keep them in cages! I have said all along that the Lycans must be defeated, destroyed, but you wanted them as slaves. As long as there are slaves, there will be rebellions, and as long as there are rebellions, there are uprisings. How are we to defend the north with your armies defeated?"

"I have more than a thousand men across the border, immortals who have pledged their eternal service and devotion. I will not rest until this adversary, this traitor, is put to death. I will not leave you to amend for my mistakes." Viktor resented that she maintained the moral ground, for he knew she was right. If it were not for his actions, the battle would never have been lost, for it would not have taken place at all. If he had only slain the child where it lay in its mothers' cell beside her motionless body, his daughter would have still been alive.

His companion knew this and her teeth drew back from her fangs just enough to reveal her displeasure. It was better to have awakened her than Markus, for he needed another Elder to help him put matters to rights. Lucian had taken control of the castle, their former stronghold, and transformed it into a den for the Lycans. It was a defiant act, one of arrogance in the knowledge and belief that his adversaries were defeated. Lucian had not known about the Elders, had not counted on their escape, and could not fathom that it took more than a blade through the throat to kill Viktor.

There were three of them, three Elders. Markus was the Father of their kind but the weakest in his emotions, tormented by his brother's imprisonment. William was a murderous, rampaging monster subdued only at great personal cost and massive loss of life. Then there was Viktor, a warlord of the north who had been turned to assist in William's capture, his armies ruthless but loyal, making him the most powerful of the Elders. Markus had not his experience in battle or his single-mindedness. It was Amelia who was unusual, the daughter of a nobleman with a warrior's heart. She was just as bloodthirsty as the others, relentless in her pursuit of her adversaries, beautiful and terrible in a single slender form. Even Sonja had been in awe of her, inspired by her, frightened of her penetrating green eyes. They fixed on him with unwavering scrutiny and Amelia stepped back, further from the flames, her dark hair loose against her shoulders.

"Our presence will soon be detected," Viktor said. "If we are to build our numbers it must be done now, before Lucian and his animals descend upon the north. We will take two of our guards and ride into the village. Turn only those you believe will be of influence or assistance. Take Tanis with you."

She narrowed her magnificent eyes and studied him at length but did not resist or argue, even though she might have championed her own authority. Amelia had a quiet manner about her that put others ill at ease, for it was impossible to determine the nature of her thoughts. Her unusual eyes shifted to the darkness as a figure entered, ashen of countenance and bearing the same eerie gaze as his sire. "Your pet is here," she said.

Hardly glancing at Kraven, Viktor said, "I have need of your blade. You will accompany me."

They mounted and rode out into the wind and snow, white flakes fluttering in the air and shifting through the trees.


	3. Chapter 3: Selene

It was tempting to take torches but would suit them better to go in darkness. Snow would cloud the skies and prevent an early dawn, allowing them further hours the following day in which to move about in daylight without seeking shadows. He separated from Amelia and Tanis at the crossroads, silent apart from the sound of the horses' hooves in the freshly fallen snow. There was no moon and the storm worsened with their approach of the outer reaches of the town. Kraven followed him through the darkened streets, their presence awakening no one, the only man to see them stumbling out of the tavern and collapsing drunk in a snow bank.

Many years had passed since Viktor had been in these regions, not since they had imprisoned William. First, he had been kept subdued in the dungeons of the castle and then moved into a prison from which he could not escape. The key had been made by a special blacksmith who had not asked questions, just worked for the sum he was paid. Half of the key resided in Viktor's chest, beneath the ashen quality of his skin, a procedure that had been excruciatingly painful but assured him William could never be freed without his assistance. The other half had been made into a pendant that his daughter had worn around her neck from childhood to adulthood, never leaving her side even as she had fornicated with that _animal._ In the midst of his rage, Lucian had taken it out of Viktor's hands, fresh off her corpse, as a keepsake, but he could not have known what it represented, or that it might unleash his ancestor. Eventually, he would become curious and search for answers. It was too dangerous to allow the blacksmith or his family to survive.

It would not be the first time Viktor had engaged in slaughter for a purpose, and it was not a task that repulsed him, for his heart was cold since his daughter's death, his only thought to defeat their adversary. Kraven rode with him to the small farm where the man rested asleep in his bed, arm around his wife, ignorant of the immortal that passed silently into the barn. The horses moved uneasily with his presence, shifting in their stalls. It would be enough to awaken the master of the house, and sure enough he ventured down the stairs from the rooms above, holding a lantern aloft in a weary hand, his eyes dull with exhaustion. Golden light bathed the straw beneath their feet and he was surprised as he approached, his uncertainty transforming into recognition. "It is you, my lord," he said with surprise. "I have not seen you in … eighteen years, near about. The hour is late, has your horse thrown a shoe?"

He started forward with a pleasant expression but they were the last words he ever spoke. His death came swiftly and without much pain but there was a horror in his face as he beheld his unholy murderer, fangs bared and eyes glinting in the shadows, pale as the grave and with inhuman strength. Blood seeped from his veins into the Vampire who held his rigid form tight against his breast, memories flooding with it of past incidents and memorable threats. Most of them were unimportant in their sentimentality, but a few lingered even after Viktor allowed him to slump to the ground. He went from room to room taking their lives, systematically, the children awakening enough to scream abruptly before their cries were silenced forever. None would be allowed to remember the Secret. There was just one left, a girl, the daughter near Sonja's age. She would have played with Sonja if it had been allowed, but they had merely looked at each other, one a peasant's child and the other the only offspring of a warlord.

It was a unique scent that compelled him to return to the barn, where he found her weeping over her father's cold form. She was huddled mass of dark hair and slender limbs beneath the folds of her nightdress, shivering as much from the cold as her emotions. He looked at her and could not bear to kill her. The others yes, but not this one, for she looked so much like his daughter that for a moment he could not move, wondering if Sonja's ghost had returned to haunt him. Tearful dark eyes lifted to him in fear and desperation, shaking fingers reaching out to him in a plea for preservation. He knew it went against everything in his nature and that it was dangerous but drew her to her feet, allowing her to shed further tears against his bloodied armor.

"There, there," he said. "You are safe now."

And she believed him, the soothing tone of his voice, the reassurance of his arm around her, his gentleness as he took her to the horses where Kraven waited, unspeaking but curious as to their new companion. Trust should not have been easy for her, but she gave it to him utterly as they rode through the quickening snow.

A mile from the castle darkened shapes materialized from the gloom. The horses reared and the girl tumbled to the ground, terrorized as the Lycan lunged for her in the darkness. It met the full force of Viktor's sword and fell to the ground, crimson staining the snow as a guttural final growl escaped its raging mouth. More animals bounded out of the trees and the flash of silver accompanied the spatter of blood. They were outnumbered but Amelia and Tanis came over the crest of the hill and rode in to defend them, her hand as strong in wielding weapons as those of her companions. When at last their adversaries lay strewn on the ground, they rode on, their numbers increased slightly but not enough to justify the danger.

The girl was taken to a room with a fire where she could feel safe, reluctant to leave her savior but not unwilling, and in her absence Amelia removed her hood and strode forward.

"It is not difficult to see why you have chosen to keep one as a pet," she remarked. "Did you kill the rest?"

"Yes." Viktor could still taste them on his lips, on the surface of his tongue, their warmth having restored some of the color to his ancient flesh. They did not often drink humans, for it tended to generate suspicion among the locals, resorting instead to feeding on livestock, but he had never liked the taste. Human blood was so much more filling, so enlightening; it was a temptation to gorge on it, to fill his mind with their memories as their life-force passed through his lips. He saw it openly cross Amelia's face: envy, for while she did not desire the carnage, she lusted after the blood. Her narrow fingers curled into her fists and she said nothing, for there was no observation to be made. Viktor had preserved their Secret, one they shared though she did not know the resting place of the second key.

"You should not keep her," she said, softly. "It is too dangerous." But she knew he would not listen to her, that the young woman who now resided in their keeping reminded him of the daughter he had slain. Viktor was cold and inhuman in all but one emotion, and that was an immense and unfathomable grief, for it had tortured him to kill her, to take the life of his only child for the good of the Coven. He might have hated them for that but it had been done as it needed to be. Amelia could not begrudge him this regret: the wife he had lost, the daughter he had forsaken. Her comment lingered on the air between them and prompted a bitter smile. He knew it was true, that it was a weakness not to take the girl's life. If she remembered any of it, he would take it… drain her and leave her to die. But he would not know until he had tasted her blood.

Lifting her hand, Amelia moved it toward him and he caught it, his eerie blue eyes shifting to her face. Intensity raged between them more ferocious than the storm. How long had it been since they had united to bring down William and force Markus into unwilling submission to their will? He remembered it clearly, those reckless moments in which their rival had fallen and been imprisoned. Markus could do nothing against them, not when Viktor and Amelia were insistent that the Wolf be locked away for all eternity. Amelia had distrusted and hated the Wolf as much as he had, and an unholy elation had filled them at his downfall. It had taken them to his chambers and to a union no one ever suspected. He had taken no other woman since his wife's death, her absence leaving emptiness in him for many years, but for one night Amelia had conquered his memories of her, for she was much more powerful, his equal; two Elders, betraying Markus in more ways than one.

"Have our armies been somewhat replenished?" he asked, the feel of her arm smooth beneath the touch of his fingertips. She smelled faintly of the jasmine that pervaded her coffin and the blood of her adversaries. His hand was so strong, so commanding that she did not pull it away, for she liked his touch.

"Yes, but not in vast enough numbers to defeat the Lycans. Any that escaped this night will go to him, to your half-breed, the father of new legions."

Contempt flashed between them, for it was apparent she did not forgive him this betrayal, his decision to breed Lycans while she slept, and he narrowed his eerie eyes at her. "Let Lucian come," he said. "We will defeat him."

He released her and strode to the open doorway, knowing there was not much time. The girl would become one of them, immediately. He knew Amelia wanted to watch, that she craved bloodlust as much as the rest of their kind, and did not begrudge her distant presence in the shadows as he returned to the enormous fireplace before which the young woman huddled. The castle was dark and cold, so full of distant and strange sounds that she was relieved at his return, appearing out of nothing behind her, long robes having replaced his armor. Rising to her feet, she said tremulously, "I have given it much thought, and are you not the lord that my father once worked for, many years ago?"

So she did retain certain memories. He hoped she did not remember the details. "Indeed," he said and resisted placing his arm about her shoulders. She was so like Sonja, from her lean features to her tattered dress. Even her hair was similar, long and jet black. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of autumn brown but would change when she took his blood. They would become cold and blue, like his, another daughter to replace the one he had lost. The one he had slain. Memories of her dreadful screams would haunt him forever, but perhaps this one might ease his pain.

Tears entered her unusual eyes and she brushed them away with a trembling hand. "Thank you for rescuing me, sire," she whispered. "I do not know what had slain my father and the others… but if it were not for you, I would have surely died."

"You need fear none of that now, for you are safe from those that would harm you."

The girl stood so near to him he could smell her blood, almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. He touched the side of her face, beneath the strands of uneven hair. She would be beautiful as a vampire. She did not pull away from him but there came a certain amount of distrust into her gaze. She assumed he wanted something different from what he had in mind.

"You are so like my daughter," he said, and some of her apprehension faded. "I lost her not so long ago so as you see, we share the same state of mourning."

Deep in the shadows, Amelia remained silent but he sensed her incredulousness at the audacity of this statement. It brought reassurance to his companion and she let down her guard. It was then he took what remained of her innocence, for he drew her to him and without warning or more pain than was unavoidable, sank his gleaming fangs into her throat. She struggled and fought before his calming influence flooded through her and rendered her motionless as her memories poured into him along with the crimson life. He saw flashes of childhood incidents—her sitting on her father's knee, listening to stories, learning to read, running through the narrow caverns in which William was to be imprisoned, of the key that resided in his chest and the locket Lucian had stolen. There were other memories too, stronger ones of recent times, of moments her father would have disapproved of. He even saw snatches of himself, experienced her strange emotions toward him; and then they were at the end of her life and it was draining away.

Her limp body was now on the floor and he knelt over her, unmoving as he stared down at the ashen countenance. Amelia's slender fingers descended on his shoulder and she said, "You must be certain."

Certain that she did not know too much, that she would forget, and that this would not kill them all.

"I am certain," he said, and sank his fangs into his wrist.

His blood flowed forth and dripped into her mouth, filling it and causing an instinctive response. Her hand closed around his arm, drawing it against her lips, and she drank until she was full, falling back against the rough stones and staring uncomprehending at the figures standing above her. The transformation was gradual as her flaws faded, her senses sharpened, and her heart stopped. Death was an unavoidable, terrifying nothingness before life returned. It would take some time and Viktor carried her into one of the inner rooms, laying her out on the bed and placing his hand alongside her face, murmuring that it would soon be all right.

Standing in the shadows watching them, Amelia wondered if this was not folly, if this innocent child would be their end.

"There now," said Viktor, as he sat holding the dark-haired girl's hand. "Now, you are born again."

Her eyes opened at last. She sat up.

"My child," he said, "what is your name?"

It whispered through the columns. It stirred the snow falling outside. It sent a shiver through Amelia.

"Selene."

_Fin_.


End file.
